


Our Sun it Shines

by syrupfactory



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Romance, So Married, Tree Internet, vegetable garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupfactory/pseuds/syrupfactory
Summary: In a new dimension, OA and Homer discover a beautiful life where their alternate selves are happily married … in addition to some other surprises.“How’d you find this place?” he asked.She had led the way when they jumped, of course. At the question, a big smile spread across her face.“I just imagined us happy together.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be reblogged on tumblr (with graphic) [here](https://meowdejavu.tumblr.com/post/184814824358/our-sun-it-shines-an-oahomer-reunion-fanfic)!

OA started to open her eyes and then promptly closed them again against a harsh brightness. Something smelled like … soil? She lied still, waiting for the ringing in her ears to subside, and when it did, she could hear birds singing. 

She sat up with a start, finding that the brightness was actually a clear blue sky. She was sitting in the dirt. The day was quiet and serene, tree branches swaying against a light breeze. 

Directly in front of her was a house—a cabin—she didn’t recognize. And there were dirty gloves on her hands. And a straw hat on the ground that must have tumbled from her head. It appeared her body’s previous occupant had been doing some gardening, rehoming daffodils from little pots into the the house’s flower bed. Whose house? She slipped off the gloves and found lightly calloused hands beneath. Huh. 

She felt for her hair at once, relieved to find it long and normal again unlike the odd pixie cut she’d seen in the mirror in the last dimension. The one where she’d forgotten herself. The one where Homer had stopped at nothing to find her. 

They had made the jump together—just the two of them this time—but here she seemed to be alone. Getting to her feet and turning around, she was stunned to find that the house was uphill from a serene lake, bordered by dense trees. Certainly not a place she recognized. But none of that mattered yet. She just needed to find— 

“OA?” came his voice, faintly, from … somewhere. 

“Homer?” she called back, spinning around, but she didn’t see him—and then the door of the house flew open and he was there on the porch. 

She rushed forward to meet him and didn’t stop until she could grab him by the shoulders and pull him into her arms. He hugged back so tight—tighter than anyone ever had—and she couldn’t fight her smile. 

“Homer,” she said softly, holding him still. 

When he pulled back to look at her, she smiled again and ran her hands over his hair—a little longer and shinier than it had been in their first life together. His skin was slightly tanned, too, and he was clean-shaven again. 

“Look at you,” she said. “You have freckles!” 

“So do you,” he said, and the way he smiled melted her heart a thousand times over. 

All at once, she had nothing more to say and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him once and holding the pose and her breath for what felt like a full minute before she broke off. He touched her face this time, and she leaned into his hand. When he kissed her, he did so with more finesse, pecking her once, then again on the other side, then going in for a longer passionate kiss. White hot desire bloomed inside her with a force that left her dizzy. 

“I think we’re alone here,” he said, and she knew he was feeling the same thing. 

Here. This … lake house? She snapped back to reality. They had just jumped. They couldn’t be reckless. She needed to know that they were in a safe place. 

“Do you think we live here?” she said, looking over at the door he’d left open. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was in the kitchen after we jumped.” 

“And I was planting flowers. We should take a look around, before … um.” 

She felt her cheeks go warm. Were they really finally alone? 

“Okay,” Homer said, taking her hand and leading them inside. “Let’s go look.” 

*** 

They walked into a living room that reminded Homer a little of a grandmother’s house. In a cozy way. It had all been a blur when he’d rushed outside, but now he took in the polished hardwood floors, mustard-colored rug, and old-fashioned furniture. Lots of green plants and flowers, multiple large paintings, an enormous bookshelf, and a fireplace below the TV. It set in that they might have dropped into someone else’s home. 

OA turned her attention to a collection of little framed photos displayed on a cabinet, cupping her mouth and grabbing one. 

“Homer,” she said, holding it out to him. 

The picture showed the two of them, arms linked, wearing hoodies. They looked young—younger than now, but maybe the same ages as when they would have been in Hap’s basement? But here they were happy. They were together. 

“Homer, look!” 

He realized she was crying now, and taking the next photo, he understood why: It was the two of them on their wedding day—OA smiling at the camera, perfectly angelic in her white dress, while Homer was too busy looking at her to bother posing. He laughed a bit at that, and then his vision went a little blurry. The picture was a welcome explanation for the simple gold ring on his left hand. 

Abruptly, OA pulled him into her arms again and kissed his cheek. 

“We got married,” she said. “We found each other here and loved each other and got married.” 

He wiped his eyes and kissed her again. “How’d you find this place?” 

She had led the way when they jumped, of course. At the question, a big smile spread across her face. 

“I just imagined us happy together.” 

He nodded. “I think this _is_ our house.” 

She laughed a happy laugh and turned back to the other photos. He followed, coming upon a childhood picture of himself with a white dog— _holy shit_. 

“Oh my god,” he said, snatching it up. “I had this same dog. This is Roxy.” 

OA smiled again. “You’re both so cute.” 

He was placing the dog photo in its spot when he realized she had sank into a chair—holding a photo that had apparently stunned her. Without saying anything, he moved to sit next to her and looked over her shoulder. At once, he understood and grabbed her forearm. The picture was her—adult her—standing next to an older woman with the same long blonde hair. 

“Is that…?” he asked. 

“My mother,” she said, nodding, her voice a whisper. “She survived?” 

OA stood again, still holding the photo, and took up the one next to it. In that one, she was with her father, but she was a child in the photo with him. That probably meant she’d lost him in this life, too, Homer reasoned. 

She turned around to survey the room. “I wonder how long we’ve lived here. And how we met.” 

Homer glanced back over at the wedding photo. The hoodie photo. The versions of themselves they’d abruptly replaced. 

“They seem so happy,” he said, feeling a little bad about having interrupted their lives. “We should … probably let them out.” 

OA turned to him, seemingly considering his words. She took his hand again, a near-smile playing on her lips. 

“I think we should make some memories of our own first.” 

He squeezed her hand in his. She was right, of course. They were finally together, after waiting so long, after finding and losing each other over and over—wait, did she mean? 

She kissed him again and ran her hand up his chest. He forgot everything else he’d been thinking about. 

*** 

OA found their bedroom just as charming as all she’d seen of the house so far. It was surreal to think they lived here together as husband and wife. Just the thought of it made her feel weightless. The bed was big and plush, with a fluffy comforter in lemon yellow, and they fell into it together like it was the most natural thing. Like they hadn’t fought through several lifetimes to get here. 

Her desire bloomed anew and tenfold to feel his skin against hers, to run her hands and her lips across his body. All at once she was overwhelmed by it and paused to just look at him. Homer held her gaze and smiled, the same way he always did. The way that said a million things and one thing. 

She sat up, still looking at him, and he followed her lead. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to his chest over his heart and then turned her head and pressed her ear to the same spot. She smiled as she listened, drinking in the sound of him. Homer ran his fingers through her hair, and for this single beautiful moment she felt and heard only him. 

When she straightened up again, she kissed him, thinking he must be ready to get on with this. But then he leaned into her, repeating her gesture, planting his own ear against her chest. She held his head, carding her hands through his soft brown hair and stroking his neck. 

Rather than sitting up again, he moved to trail kisses across her shoulder, and they were swiftly nested in the soft sheets. OA had acquired memories of making love, as other versions of herself, but that didn’t erase the fact that she had never done so in present tense. Nor did it, in any way, prepare her for what it meant to do so with her Homer. 

Her eyes were shut for a while, as she felt him and felt her body respond to his, waves of bright bliss pulsing through her. When she looked at him again, something was different. His face looked hazy or ... illuminated? 

Homer looked at her and laughed. 

“OA,” he breathed, “you’re glowing.” 

“Oh,” she said, lifting up her arm and seeing that, indeed, she was emitting an ethereal white light. 

She laughed too, and kissed him once more as he rocked his hips into hers. 

Her glow subsided as they lied together afterward in the peaceful stillness of the bedroom, taking turns running their fingertips across each other’s backs. OA turned to him after some time and touched his cheek, marveling just at being so close and wholly alone. Finally. 

An idea occurred to her that she couldn’t resist. She grasped the thin, white bed sheet below the comforter and yanked it upward. 

“Come underneath with me,” she said. 

He did without hesitation, mirroring her action and pulling the sheet up and over his own head. With the sheet draped over them, she smiled at him and saw him smile back through the shadows. 

“I used to imagine this,” she said. 

“Me, too.” 

“After I lost you. After … Hap threw me out, I was back in my old room for a while. My old house. I would lay in bed under the covers like this and talk to you like you were still right there with me. I hoped you knew I wouldn’t have left you behind willingly.” 

Homer turned his gaze down before he spoke. 

“He told me I’d never see you again,” came his soft reply. “He wouldn’t say what he’d done to you, but I was so afraid it was true … I got sick, I was out of it. And when he made us all jump without you, all I could think was that I didn’t want to be leaving you. I didn’t want to be going without you.” 

All at once, something clicked in OA’s mind and she propped herself up on her elbow, letting the sheet fall away. 

“ _That’s_ why you were suppressed there,” she said. “In Dr. Roberts. You were a passive traveler.” 

Homer nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s why.” 

OA looked at him for a moment, just at his sweet face and his new freckles and his chest hair. She scooted closer to him, then, and gathered him into her arms. They held each other tightly for a long time there in their shared bed. 

*** 

Feeling a little groggy and hungry in the afterglow of their intimacy, Homer eventually put on pants and set out to mine the kitchen for food. OA was behind him, admiring her wedding ring, which she’d found in a little dish on the nightstand. 

He started by opening the fridge and did a double-take. He hadn’t had any real expectations, but finding it crammed full of fresh produce was still a surprise. Turning to look over at the counters, he realized there was even more: Clusters of squash and carrots and tomatoes that didn’t need to be chilled. 

“Oh my god,” he said, a realization dawning.   

OA looked up just as he dashed by her for the back door. He threw it open and burst outside onto their back patio, stomping over to the railing and inspecting the yard behind their cabin. He laughed out loud when he saw that he was right: They had a vegetable garden. 

Her arms found their way around his waist, and he turned to her to share his discovery only to see that she already fully understood. 

“What are the chances?” he said. 

“It’s an echo. Don’t you see? This dimension is an echo of our lives. Our paths crossed, just in a different way. With a different outcome. They’re still us.” 

That made sense. Somehow, seeing the garden had made it all starkly real for him. He thought about that other version of himself, happily plotting out the different patches for vegetables and enjoying the sunlight while he’d been stuck underground. He tried to push away the pang of envy that followed. 

Back inside, Homer insisted on making salads for both of them, rinsing and tearing the lush, green lettuce and adding in a rainbow of other ingredients, stunned to think that their “echo” selves had grown it all. Topping it off with some bright slices of squash, he carried the bowls to the table and found OA beaming proudly. His salad-making skills were maybe a bit rusty, but the fresh plants were all crunchy and fresh and delicious. 

It felt a little surreal to be sitting across from OA, to see her so happy. In fact, a lot of this dimension felt like a dream so far. What were their jobs? What state were they in? 

“What is it?” she asked. 

Looking into her kind eyes, he decided all those questions could wait. 

“You know,” he started, fighting a smirk, “I couldn’t help but notice that we also live by a lake.” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“And it’s _definitely_ warm enough for swimming.” 

She beamed again. “It is!” 

They left their empty salad bowls in the sink and managed to find some bathing suits tucked into the bottom drawer of their bedroom dresser. 

Homer pulled on his swim trunks, striped with navy and gold and white, and found that the drawstring was worn from use. OA had taken hers to the bathroom to change, and she emerged in a pastel yellow one piece. The pale material hugged her form, standing in an attractive contrast against her lightly tanned skin, and he idly considered abandoning the swimming idea altogether and just whisking her into bed again. 

“Wow,” he said instead. 

“You, too,” she said charitably. “Ready?" 

They headed down the path from their cabin toward the lake pier, OA’s long hair whipping against her shoulders in the gusting wind. Homer took her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and she smiled at him. 

He wished he could promise her that she’d always be this happy. That nothing would ever tear them apart again. That he’d protect her. But he couldn’t promise any of that. He couldn’t promise her anything other than himself. 

OA turned to him, a silent question on her face, and he realized he’d tightened his grasp on her hand. As though she could hear him thinking, she pulled him into an embrace. He nuzzled her shoulder, pressing his nose into the fabric of her swimsuit strap. There was an especially strong gust of wind, then, rustling the trees that surrounded the lake. She pulled back and touched his face, and he knew he didn’t need to say anything. 

When they walked out onto the little wooden pier with its sun-bleached planks, OA stopped, face upturned, seemingly scanning the sky and the trees. She closed her eyes and just stood for a moment, listening, and Homer closed his eyes, too. He suspected—knew—that she heard or sensed something he couldn’t. But it was beautiful all the same. 

The water was a cool shock to his skin when they leapt in, and he surfaced laughing. It had been a long fucking time since he’d swam. She laughed beside him, wet hair slicked back like a mermaid, and, damn it, _how_ did she seem even more radiant every time he looked at her? 

As they swam together, he let his mind go blank and enjoy feeling the water around him, enjoy knowing she was next to him. He found that he didn’t much care for his head being underwater and stuck with surface swimming, which came to this body with ease. After some time, he lost himself to thoughts of his other self, again, wondering about all the times he’d swam with his wife. In their pretty lake by their perfect little cabin. Yeah, he was jealous, he guessed. But how could he not be? This Homer had everything. Swimming here would be an average day for him. Had he taken moments like this for granted? Had he known how lucky he was to be with _her_? To know her? To wake up next to her? Had he taken her for granted? That thought didn’t feel far-fetched. And he resented the other him for it. 

OA splashed him, ending his weird daydream. 

“Hey!” she said, coming over to where he was sitting on the bank and pulling herself up to sit next to him. “Where do you keep going?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot. This life. It seems too perfect, almost.” 

She looked thoughtful, water dripping off her nose. “I’m sure it’s not all perfect. But whatever struggles they had, the most important part is that they ended up right here. Together. And so did we.” 

He smiled. “Did you always know we’d get here?” 

“No,” she said earnestly. “But I believed.” 

As the sun was setting, they raced back to the cabin and all but tumbled inside, dropping to the floor and kissing and laughing and dripping everywhere. Homer peeled off OA’s swimsuit and tasted the lake on her skin, moving from her shoulder to her breast to her stomach to her hip and down farther still. When her breath hitched, he paused and looked at her, and she smiled at him the same way she’d been smiling all day. Only, this time, there was the subtle hint of a glow rising in her cheeks. 

It hit him in an instant how wrong he’d been earlier when he thought he was pissed at his other self. No, it was him who was the idiot. Him who needed a wakeup call. What a fool he’d been to think that any single version of him could ever possibly love her _enough_. 

*** 

After they made love on the floor, OA and Homer collected their wet swimsuits and headed to the shower. As the water warmed her skin and she pressed her forehead to his under the stream, OA relished in the feeling that she could repeat this day over and over until the end of her life and never tire of it. 

And then, for the first time ever, they climbed into the same bed to fall asleep holding each other. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said after they’d settled in under the covers. 

Was he serious? “Of course you can.” 

He looked oddly hesitant. “The glowing thing. What is it? Why … is it?” 

She smiled and turned her gaze up to the bedroom ceiling. “I don’t think it’s something I could ever understand with my brain. But …” 

Gathering her words, she shifted to her side to face him. 

“In here,” she said, palm to her chest, “I just know. It’s like a question I’ve been asking for so long is finally answered. It’s serenity. It’s … wholeness.” 

Instead of responding, he moved a lock of hair away from her face. When she met his eyes again, she realized he looked almost worried. 

“I hope I can always give you that.” 

She held his gaze for a moment, abruptly understanding that he felt a great weight on his shoulders. 

“Homer,” she said, taking his hand. “It’s not a measurement or a goal or a test. It’s just me and you. I love you. I need you. As long as you’re here with me, as long as you love me, you are giving me everything in the universe. So, I glow.” 

He relaxed, then, smiling with her, and he leaned in and kissed her long and deep. 

“You’re giving me everything, too. More than I’ve ever deserved. I love you, OA.” 

She touched his cheek, and the two of them drifted to sleep in each other’s arms.


	2. Chapter 2

When OA awoke to sunlight spilling in through the cracks in the blinds, she rolled over and found herself in an empty bed. How had he managed to untangle from their nest without waking her? She stretched and rubbed her eyes, and then realized that something smelled delicious. A big smile crept up on her. 

She found Homer in the kitchen working over the stove. 

“Good morning,” he said with an air of showiness. 

“Good morning,” she replied, letting her arms encircle his waist from behind and planting a quick kiss on his shoulder. “That smells so good.” 

“I thought that might wake you up. You were really out.” 

She laughed, giving him space to plate the food, and took her spot at the kitchen table. He came over and served her breakfast with a performative flair again, his eyes sparkling. He’d made fluffy omelettes full of chopped veggies, plus some bacon and potatoes, and maybe it wasn’t the best breakfast she’d ever tasted, but on the other hand, it most definitely was. 

After they had finished eating and piled more dishes into the sink, Homer turned to her. “I found something I want to show you.” 

With that, he lead her to the living room and stopped at the coffee table to pick up a large book of some sort. It was bound in a white silken cover and had had their names and a date in elegant calligraphy. Their wedding album. 

“Oh,” she said with a start, awkwardly slapping her hand onto the cover. 

“Oh?” 

“Have you already looked?” she asked, feeling a pit in her stomach. 

“No … I wanted to look together.” 

“Maybe not yet?” 

He looked confused; he had expected her to be excited. She wanted to be excited. Okay, shit, she had to tell him something that had been weighing on her. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to see,” she said. “It’s just … I know he’s here somewhere. He was in their lives at some point and maybe still is.” 

Homer set the album back on the table, and OA felt like she had slapped it out of his hand. They sunk into the couch together, and he turned to her. 

“The Hap we knew is gone,” he said. “He’ll never split us up again, ever.” 

They had seen him die, yes, but something twisted in her, making her doubt that she could truly believe in _gone_. 

“I didn’t know you were afraid of that,” Homer went on. “And yeah, he probably was in their lives. But, it’s like you said before: Nothing is perfect. He’s just one of the weeds, right? They made it here regardless.” 

OA sighed. “In our dimension and the one after, he was the reason we met.” 

Homer sat with that for a second and then shrugged. “Okay, so he’s not a weed. He’s … fertilizer! He’s the cow shit they had to pack into the dirt so that something nice would grow.” 

At that, a laugh burst from her. Homer laughed, too, and then they both couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Okay,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m sorry. Let’s look at it.” 

“We don’t have to if you’d rather wait.” 

In response, she took up the album herself and rested it across their laps. Turning open the cover, even just the first page was enough to take her breath away: It was the two of them at a lovely little garden ceremony, holding hands and facing each other. 

Moving on, there were photos of their kiss and their wide grins as they exited together, arms linked. Her gown was white lace with thin straps, simple and flowy, and she had a single white flower tucked into her hair. Homer wore gray pants and a matching vest over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. OA lingered on a close-up photo of him where he looked happy and handsome, his green eyes shining in the daylight and his cheeks a little rosy. 

“God, look at _you_ ,” she said. 

“Look who’s talking,” came his muttered reply. 

They carried on and found a spread with photos of the wedding party and their families. 

“Wow,” she said, spotting her mother right away. 

The resemblance was even stronger here than in the living room photo. It was so incredible to think that she’d known her, grown up with her, in this life. Her father wasn’t there, but she tried not to dwell on that. Instead, she looked to Homer’s relatives and listened in fascination as he identified them. 

“Oh my god,” Homer said as he turned the next page. 

It took OA a second to catch what had shocked him, and then she realized: In a photo of the full wedding party, two familiar faces stood out: Rachel on her side, and Scott on his. 

“Oh my god,” she repeated, laughing in disbelief. 

She didn’t know the other faces, but everyone looked happy. The bridesmaids wore dresses in pastel yellow, and Homer and his groomsmen had bow-ties to match. 

They moved on again and found photos of the reception, with dancing and cake and champagne. And so many pictures of OA and Homer laughing and embracing and posing with friends and smiling and sweating and clapping and— 

In a fleeting glimpse, OA could hear the music, could hear the cheering, could recall the feeling of jumping up and down on the wooden dance floor with her tired bare feet. 

“What is it?” Homer asked. 

She looked at the pages again, at the string lights across the ceiling and at a photo where Homer was dipping her down to kiss her, and another flash came. She could put herself there in the room, could feel his arms around her, could feel her heart bursting with joy— 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “I remember. I remember that day.” 

She smiled and felt tears break free. 

“She was _so_ happy,” OA went on. “I was so happy.” 

Homer scooted closer to her and kissed her cheek. OA placed the still-open book back on the table and turned toward him, kissing him in full, pulling him closer. 

“You really know how to pick a dimension,” he said. 

They laughed together again. 

When they made it to the end, to a photo of the two of them leaving together in a fancy antique car, she breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been there, after all. In whatever capacity their other selves had known Hunter Percy, they hadn’t invited him to their wedding, at least. 

But more than that, the memories OA had seen had been so beautiful, she wasn’t afraid anymore of integrating with this version of herself. Some part of her must have already known that, she reasonsed, since the flashes came so readily. Perhaps this Nina would emerge gradually now that the door was cracked. 

OA decided to be happy about that. 

Homer went to replace the album where he’d found it on the large bookshelf, and OA followed him with her eyes. She hadn’t taken the time to really scan the shelves, but now a middle row of books caught her eye. 

Crossing the room to take a closer look, she found a mixture of classic literature in both English and Russian, poetry collections, texts on astronomy and physics, and various modern novels—including three shelved in the center with her birth name on the spine. She removed the first one, titled _Transcendence_ , and opened to a random page. 

> _When Uriel was seven years old, he told his mother he wanted to be a tree. She dismissed it as a childish whim born of his desire to be allowed outside during the rain, but it was much more than that. Much more literal. He wanted to be made of strong, solid wood, to hold little birds and squirrels in his many arms, to grow taller and taller and one day reach as high as the moon. Yes, he’d spent much of his childhood musing about the wondrous possibilities that existed only in the lives of trees._  

“...were dead before, but now they’re charged,” Homer was saying, suddenly next to her. 

“What?” she said, just as she noticed he was holding two cell phones. 

“Oh,” he said, seemingly just noticing the book cover, “sorry, I interrupted something way more interesting.” 

 OA laughed lightly and shook her head, sliding the book back into its spot. “Just taking a look around. Getting to know her.” 

“This might help,” he said, handing her a phone with a daisy-patterned case. 

*** 

Homer was glad that breakfast and the wedding album had gone over well, but he found himself wishing the photos had jogged his memory the way they had for OA. 

It didn’t help that his phone was locked and every code he guessed was wrong. 

He could tell OA had some thinking to do, still exploring her own unlocked phone and the bookshelves, so he quietly retreated to the kitchen to wash their dishes. Standing by the sink window, he saw that the sky outside had grown overcast, and the trees were swaying in stronger winds. 

Afterward, he wandered down the hall to their office space, where he’d found their phones earlier, but had yet to fully explore. They had two desks with computers and more bookshelves, plus some crowded bulletin boards. Both of the computers were password-locked, too, so that wasn’t helpful. 

The desk that was clearly his own was honestly a fucking mess. He sat down and grabbed an overstuffed manila folder and took a look at the stack of papers inside, which were … science worksheets? That he’d been grading? Okay, he was a teacher here. That was a start. 

He looked up to scan the bulletin board above his desk, also crammed full of papers and tickets and odds and ends. A few photos stood out: An old football team shot, an apparent stock photo of the pyramids in Egypt, and another of himself, standing outside at night next to a telescope with a group of teenagers. He did look pretty teachery, standing all serious while the students were doing silly poses. 

Next, he shifted over to OA’s desk—well, Nina’s desk—which was much neater, with a paper tray holding a stack of notebooks, an amber vase with wilting flowers, and a small framed photo of her father. Off to the side was a little antique-style chest, which he flipped open, to find it stuffed full of folded papers. Curious, he grabbed one and unfolded it, hoping he wasn’t being too intrusive. He recognized his own handwriting. 

> _Stuck in the lab late and taking a break. I keep thinking about what you said yesterday during the group discussion, about how the universe is like one big poem. I keep laughing at the way Dr. Percy looked at you. No one else leaves him that speechless. But I’m glad you said it. I love the way you think. I’m totally rambling now and super tired and can’t even remember why I started writing this, but I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. — Homer_  

An odd discomfort churned in his gut. It was somewhat disappointing to think that they might see Hunter Percy in a positive light in this life. What if he was out there somewhere expecting them to consider him a friend? All at once, Homer understood why OA had hesitated with the wedding album. He refolded the note and shoved it back into the little chest, grabbing up another one. Also his handwriting. Another. Same. Nice little notes he’d written to her and which she’d kept. 

Just then, there came a low rumble of thunder. Turning to look out the window, he saw that the sky had gone dark gray and rain was coming down in a steady flow. 

“There you are,” came OA’s voice as she stepped into the room. “Find anything interesting in here?” 

“Well,” he said, abruptly changing his train of thought, “apparently I’m a teacher.” 

She smiled and turned to look around. He couldn’t decide if he should tell her about the notes just yet, but then, something on his board caught her attention, anyway. She grabbed the telescope photo and happily mumbled something. 

“I knew them in our dimension,” she said, turning to him again. “I taught them the movements. I was able to jump the first time because of them.” 

“Oh, of course,” Homer said, looking at the photo again with new context. 

“Steve isn’t there, though,” she went on. 

“Maybe he took the picture,” Homer offered. 

OA smiled. “Maybe.” 

She set the photo on his desk and turned to him again. Homer steeled himself, ready to tell her about the box of notes and what he’d read, but then she sat down right on his lap and kissed him. Okay, that conversation could definitely wait. 

Big claps of thunder rattled the windows as they made love this time. As he was over her, holding her against him, there came a bright snap of lightning followed by the next deafening boom. And just for a second, a fleeting image flashed through his mind: Her in a soaked green t-shirt and jeans, the two of them on a couch in a tiny apartment, kissing her and running his hand through her damp hair, his heart pounding— 

“What is it?” she asked softly, touching his cheek. 

He looked at her, bringing himself back to the present, and kissed her in response.


	3. Chapter 3

OA stepped out onto the back patio sometime later to get some fresh air. The storms had passed, and the air was thick with the smell of rain, a hint of sunlight starting to peek through the blanket of gray. 

Nina’s cell phone had been interesting. OA had read a casual conversation between her and her mother over and over in quiet disbelief. It was incredible to think that she’d be able to speak to her here. And there had been more photos of Homer, of course, including a few of them at some sort of dinner party with a few familiar faces present. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his arms around her, feel his lips on hers, feel the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. For the first time in her entire life, she was wholly happy with her place in the universe. She wanted to stay here with him, be his wife, have a boring little quiet life, and grow old together. Just the thought made a smile creep up on her. 

_OA_  

She opened her eyes. The trees had greeted her in whispers through the wind the day before on the dock, but now they were calling out. 

_OA_ , they called again. 

She peeked back inside and let Homer know she was going for a walk. 

Padding through the wet grass with her bare feet, she made her way over to the thick border of threes around the little lake. The air was cool and crisp, wisps of sunlight blotted out under the canopy. 

Just as they had once before, branches reached out to her, and she leaned into their grasp, letting them form a cradle around her body. Once again, she was plunged down within her mind, connecting to their radiant network. 

_We have waited for your arrival, OA,_ came their whispered collective voice inside her head. _You have questions about this version of yourself. You are ready to know her._  

_Yes,_ OA thought in reply, a little panic rising in her. _Do you have to kill me to show me?_  

_No, child. We need only introduce you._  

She was falling again then, and cried out in surprise, falling for so long, until she found herself standing in an unfamiliar cloudy white space. In front of a mirror. 

“What is th—,” she started and stopped short, realizing the reflection’s lips had not moved. 

“You’re her,” it said, eyes wide in shock. “The one who’s inside me.” 

“Oh my god,” OA breathed in reply. “You’re Nina.” 

Nina nodded and began to pace around OA, taking a curious look at her, and OA followed her with her gaze. 

“I don’t understand how … or why you’re here,” Nina said, stopping and facing her again. 

“I’m sorry,” OA offered. 

“I’m not looking for an apology. I want to understand. And I think you do, too.” 

OA nodded. Nina held out her hands. 

“My memories,” OA warned, “they won’t be easy.” 

“I’m not afraid.” 

But of course she wasn’t. OA had her caged. This was her way back. OA joined hands with her, and in and instant, she was flooded with the memories of another life... 

> In this dimension, Nina Azarova was fortunate to spend her early childhood years in Russia with both parents. Her mother was a painter, a passionate and eccentric woman, who fostered in Nina a love for imagination and great stories. The three of them were happy until tensions started growing within her father’s industry. Her mother got nervous. And then there came news of the bus crash, killing children Nina’s age (who in this life she never met), and her mother swiftly whisked her to the US. Nina’s father had kept in touch and planned to follow them, but two years later, they got word that he’d been killed. Her mother had an awe-inspiring resilience—which Nina would come to deeply admire as she grew up—but that would be the lowest time of their lives. 
> 
> Nina and her mother would remain close over the years, and Nina would go on to attend college and then graduate school, pursuing a master’s degree in literature. Her bachelor’s was in creative writing, and she’d had a few short stories published, while endlessly tinkering around with a novel concept. 
> 
> It was during this time Dr. Hunter Percy entered their lives, after Nina’s mother met him at a party and they then began casually dating. When Nina was introduced to him, she found him warm and charming. He was a physics professor, heading a research project with a small group of graduate students he’d hand-selected. _How do you select them?_ Nina had wondered. Hunter had a theory, he explained, that united both the concept of wormholes—theorized paths between universes—and the Fermi Paradox, which asks why we have zero evidence of other intelligent life in the cosmos. He would give his classes an open-ended assignment, and if any of the responses matched his own theory, he personally offered those students a spot on the research team. _What’s your theory?_ Nina had wanted to know. Her mother was curious, too. Hunter, clearly enjoying their interest, went on: Three commonly accepted “solutions” to the Fermi Paradox could be summarized as “we’re unique, we’re rare, or we’re doomed.” He disregarded the first two possibilities as ridiculous. It was the third one that interested him—why, if other intelligent civilizations have apparently disappeared, do we assume they’re all dead? _You think they all traveled through wormholes?_ Nina had asked, cautious. _Precisely,_ Hunter said. _I like that it clicked for you so quickly. The next question, though, is why? Why would they choose to cross over? That’s what I want to answer._  
> 
> In spite of herself, Nina laughed at that. Her mother had scolded her, but Hunter was only curious to know what was funny. _It’s like a setup for a joke,_ she had explained, _Why did the alien civilization jump through the wormhole? Well, why did the chicken cross the road?_ Hunter had asked if she really saw it all as so simple. Nina shook her head. _Not at all! No, it’s just the only answer we could possibly give. You can’t know more unless you ask the source. No one knows where the chicken was going apart from the chicken herself._ Hunter had studied her for a moment and then praised her for the comparison, which he’d never heard before. _Maybe you should talk to more creatives,_ her mother had said. He agreed. 
> 
> He invited her to sit in with his research group soon after. And it was there that Nina found herself in a room with three other people who initially bristled at a literature student joining their physics lab, but who would eventually become her close friends. Their names, of course, were Scott, Rachel, and Homer. 
> 
> Most of the first session was so technical that it went over Nina’s head, but Dr. Percy seemed to have high hopes that she’d return. He went so far as to tell the group that he wanted her there for an “outsider’s perspective” and for her to be treated as an equal. After all that, she felt like she had to continue showing up. 
> 
> As she got to know the others, they shared that they liked being part of Dr. Percy’s project—he always brought in good snacks and drinks—although they called the work “addictive” and “maddening” and said each of them had actually passed out in the lab on multiple occasions. They talked about how the work felt like they were unlocking new parts of their minds. It was clear that each of them felt like they were on the cusp of something groundbreaking and none of them wanted to give any appearance of taking their spots for granted. They wanted to make history. 
> 
> Homer was the only one to take an interest in what Nina was working on for her own studies. When she admitted that she was gathering inspiration for her novel from their group discussions, he wanted to hear about that, too. Somewhat like Dr. Percy, Homer seemed genuinely fascinated by her takes on complex topics, and Nina was glad to have made a new friend who she could be wholeheartedly strange with. They fell into the habit of Homer walking her out to her car and getting in long, rambled conversations all the way there. 
> 
> Then, one day, Nina turned up at the lab and found that Homer wasn’t there. Scott told her that Homer had worked through the night and passed out, and he was taking the day to recuperate. It hit her harder than she expected to think she wouldn’t see him that day. At the next session, she had to stop herself from rushing forward and hugging him. She cautiously asked him how he was doing, but Dr. Percy shut her down, telling her it wasn’t social hour—she’d never heard him snap before that moment. He later apologized and confided in her that he’d been a bit down about her mother ending their relationship, saying that he shouldn’t have taken that out on Nina. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he now regretted inviting her to the group in the first place. 
> 
> Nina and Homer started taking trips to the library together to study their main course material side by side and then going across the street for soft pretzels afterward. They alternated talking about their favorite concepts in physics and literature—Homer shared trivia about ancient astronomers, and Nina shared her favorite stories and poems, including one she recited for him from memory: “Scotland” by Alastair Reynolds. (Years later, Homer would confide in her that he first knew he wanted to marry her as he’d listened. And they’d honeymoon in Edinburgh.) For their first real date, they took a picnic to the park and stayed until nightfall to look at the stars. Where OA had been unable to touch her Homer for so long, Nina’s experience was in complete contrast, kissing him for the first time at sunset on a soft blanket in the grass. 
> 
> As Nina’s relationship with Homer blossomed, Dr. Percy’s personality changed even more drastically. He started sending Homer on random errands, making him miss discussion time—he even told him privately to stop “distracting” Nina, even though she was supposed to be a guest. Hunter prioritizing her participation above Homer’s made her deeply uncomfortable and a little angry. And something even stranger happened: Nina started getting sick. She was having trouble focussing on her actual degree work, feeling like she could only really think when she was in Dr. Percy’s lab. She realized what the others had meant about the work being addictive, and she even started to wonder if literature was truly what she wanted to study. Her dreams became erratic and disturbing. When she wasn’t in the lab, she wanted to be. Homer confessed that he often felt the same odd “pull” to it. It didn’t sit right with Nina. It was one thing to get obsessed with the work, but to feel like her head was spinning when she tried to write? To feel like she was on edge until she set foot in the lab? Something was wrong. And she was determined to figure out what it was. 
> 
> Nina got the others to meet in secret at a second location and try to work there, but it wasn’t the same. No one could hyperfocus the same way they did in the lab. They tried going outside, but there were too many distractions. She privately confided in a bookstore coworker, Renata, who was a graduate student in psychology. When Nina told her what was going on, Renata looked like she’d seen a ghost. _I don’t want to start a new conspiracy, but it sounds like you’re all being poisoned._  
> 
> It would take them a while to prove it, but Dr. Percy was indeed drugging them, deliberately getting them hooked on the work, trying to harness their minds for the sake of his own goals. He did it not just by lacing the food and drinks, but lab tools as well, and even sometimes the air vents. Their takedown would eventually involve a plan where Homer would deliberately maximize his exposure and get blood tests to for proof. Nina didn’t like it, but she knew they needed solid evidence. One day while they were alone in his apartment, he’d turned to her and promised her: _When this is all over, when it’s all behind us, I want to ask you something important. And then, depending on what your answer is, maybe we can get a lake house. Somewhere where we can see the stars. And you can finish your novel._  
> 
> Homer ended up in the hospital, and Nina stayed beside him until he was well again. Dr. Percy pleaded guilty and settled out of court, earning himself house arrest instead of prison time, to the frustration of their group. But at the very least, he was forever forbidden from teaching or contacting any of them ever again. Nina’s mother had moved on to other men long before then, but the news that he had been abusing his students still hit her hard. Nina was able to lift her spirits by telling her she had no regrets—and that she’d found her soulmate. 
> 
> After completing their degrees, Nina and Homer had fallen in love with the little house on the lake, and he found a job teaching high school science, while Nina wrote at home. She had published a novel trilogy and was working on a new series. They sometimes hosted dinner parties. They got a lot of sunlight and ate a lot of fresh salads and vegetable stews. They swam and fished. They were planning a big trip to Egypt. And they still had picnics at sunset.

 

When OA came back into the white space, she found that she had dropped to her knees. Nina’s head was in her lap, her shoulders shaking with small sobs. 

OA ran her hand down Nina’s back, over hair identical to hers. Her chest swelled with all the beauty that Nina had shared with her, and for all the pain that OA had shown her in return. 

“OA,” Nina said, lifting her head and sniffing, “I didn’t understand…” 

“It’s okay,” OA said. “I know it’s a lot—” 

“No,” Nina said, sitting up to face her now. “They spoke to me once before, when I was young. They told me that one day, I would meet another half of myself. And that together, we’d discover new worlds. I always thought they meant—” 

“Homer,” OA said in unison with her, now able to remember. 

Nina nodded, smiling through her tears. “But it was you. You finally made it. And _he_ brought us together.” 

It was true: OA had only ended up in this dimension because of her love for him. Their shared love for him. 

“He’s waiting for us,” OA said. 

Still smiling, Nina pulled her into an embrace. OA returned the hug, holding this other half of herself, grateful to her. All at once, something shifted, and she was both of them at once, her torso against her own torso, her four arms around her two backs, her breath coming through two noses. 

In a flash, OA opened her eyes, once again amongst the trees, only higher now—higher?—and her vision was oddly hazy. Everything was so bright, too bright, and then she realized it wasn’t sunlight. Nor was she tethered by branches anymore. 

Her glow was brilliant enough to wash the trees in radiant light. And the light was growing. It grew so bright she couldn’t see anymore. Two branches encircled her wrists and she was plunged into their network again. 

This time, though, it was different. 

As pathways around her lit up, OA found that she could follow them with her mind. Each one was a path to another dimension. An infinite garden of forking paths. She could look down any one or all of them simultaneously. She could see everything, everywhere, if she wanted to. She lost track of her physical body, existing at what she recognized as the heart of all reality. 

She could travel every path at once, she realized, if she willed it. But to do so would be to fragment herself. To spread herself like dust, crushed under the weight of so many realities. And even as she hung at the center of the cosmos, with the glow of all life pulsing through her, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted. 

_Is this my destiny?_ she called out in her mind. 

_There is no destiny, child_ , came the whisper of the trees. _Only the choices you make._  

_I choose to stay with him._  

_You are free to go in infinite directions._  

She hadn’t finally made it here just to be torn apart. She was home, now. She would choose herself. 

_If I’m truly free, I want to stay here. I want all of myself._  

_Very well, OA. Come back to us when you’re ready._  

*** 

Homer was standing by the kitchen window when he saw an impossibly bright light shining from within the trees, in odd contrast to the gray skies above. 

Stepping out onto the back porch, he had to shield his eyes from it. A pang of terror hit heavy in his chest, making it briefly hard to breathe, as he wondered if OA was in danger. But he remembered what she’d said about her glow and tried not to be afraid. 

And then the light was coming closer. 

Moving toward him through the trees until it obscured their trunks completely, it fully emerged—and, squinting still, he could make her out in the center. She looked alright, he thought. She had to be alright. 

OA descended, then, and as her feet met the ground, he was already off the porch and hurrying to her. 

Up close, he found he could see her face with ease, though the glow around her still burned bright. 

“OA,” he said, panting, as they grasped each other by the arms. “What happened?” 

Instead of responding, she was looking at him in a way that seemed oddly sad … or awed? He started to worry again, and then she spoke. 

“Homer, it’s time to let him out. Are you ready?” 

He nodded without hesitation. “Yes.” 

She closed her eyes, and he did the same. At first, there was only the faint glow of her light behind his eyelids. And then, gradually, a change. Like a dam opened inside him and a deluge of memories flowed into him like water filling a reservoir. Memories of this other life they’d lived together. 

He nearly stumbled, his chest heaving, but she held him steady. When he looked at her again, he suddenly understood her awe from before. It was one thing to love her as himself. But to look at her and love her twofold, to have also known this beautiful echo of her, was an entirely new experience. He couldn’t find words for his mouth to say. Fortunately, she spoke. 

“It was a day peculiar to this piece of the planet,” she started, and the words stirred a memory within him. “When larks rose on long thin strings of singing, and the air—” 

“Shifted with the shimmer of actual angels,” he recited along with her. “Nina!” 

Her smile was as radiant as the sun itself. “Homer.” 

“Are you … are you okay?!” 

“I’m perfect,” she said. “I missed you.” 

“Me, too,” he said, throwing his arms around her. 

She returned the embrace, holding him tight, and then pulled back again. 

“Homer,” she said, seemingly bursting with excitement, “I have _so many_ new story ideas!” 

They laughed together. 

Later, after her glow had receded and they sat entwined on the living room sofa, OA told him of all she had seen and learned via the trees. He listened in quiet wonder, unable to grasp what it would even mean to be able to see and sense the entire universe. The new version of himself he was now integrated with was going to need some time to process that, not to mention the implications of the confirmation of the multiverse. For now, all of him was deeply grateful that she’d chosen to remain intact. To return to him. 

“So, when we’ve lived our lives here, and run through our time, you’ll go back?” 

She nodded, gaze unfocused. “I think I will, yes.” 

He sat with that for a moment, forming his next question. 

“If you could see everything, and you could go anywhere, do you think that also means you could reach out, if you wanted, and grab something, and carry it wherever you went?”

OA looked at him, now, but she clearly wasn’t following. Homer sighed, softly laughing at himself. 

“What I’m trying to ask is, could take me with you?” 

A small smile warmed her features. “Is that what you want?” 

“Yes. I don’t ever want to be apart again.” 

“Then I’ll take you with me.” 

*** 

The sky had cleared by nightfall, and OA and Homer laid out on a thick blanket in the grass, looking at up at the stars. There was a faint cool breeze, the smell of rain still lingering in the air, and sporadic firefly lights dancing around the lake. Nina and her Homer had passed many evenings outside on nice nights like this one, and OA was excited to experience it firsthand. 

The Milky Way glittered above them, a cosmic gash splitting the sky. Even after all she’d seen, it was a remarkable sight—and comforting, in a way. It was one thing to see the infinite network of reality from inside her mind, and another to sit below this single galaxy and gaze up at the stars, to feel singular and small again. 

“I...” Homer said, breaking the silence, but then he didn’t go on. 

She shifted to look at him, lying there in the dim glow of starlight. He smiled. 

“I was going to say I used to imagine this, but … this is much, much better than anything I ever imagined.” 

OA leaned in and kissed him, her heart full of love for him and their little corner of the universe. They were home.


End file.
